my life is glamorous

9 11 2010

Some things happened this past week.  Seriously glamorous things; things that usually only happen to celebrities.  Are you ready for this?  Shit this cool probably doesn’t even happen to Paris Hilton or George Clooney.  Okay, maybe George Clooney.

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hey look! i’m bored as fuck.

3 11 2010

So I asked my friend Adam to help me Photoshop my head onto some photos.  Originally, I was going to write something (possibly funny) about the daydreams I used to have when I was a kid and how they were all based on 80’s movies.  All that is still true– but I don’t have the energy to write in length about it anymore.  However, Adam’s lovely handiwork shan’t go to waste.  Also they make me giggle.

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apropos of nothing

20 05 2010

So.  Life.  It’s funny.

The past year has been so unpredictable.  And I am not sure that I’d have it any other way, you know?  I mean, sure, there have been tough times.

But I wouldn’t want a boring, predictable life.  I will be glad to have these stories, when I’m old.


Do you feel sorry for people who think that Fourth Meal at Taco Bell is okay?  I do.  I mean really.  Do you really need a Fourth Meal?  At 1am?  And do you think it should be Taco Bell food?

…she says as she takes a swig from her ninth Coca-Cola of the day.


A week or so ago my daughter climbed into her carseat and a beetle landed on her knee.  She FLIPPED out.  Now every morning when she gets in the car, she takes a second to look around and reassure herself… “No beetles!”  With a tone that says she’s not quite convinced– Just hopeful.


I am bursting with cool news.  Well, cool for me.  I am pretty excited about it.  I can’t publicize it quite yet.


Summer approaches quickly.  This thrills me.


7 04 2010

She’s sitting in a park, thinking to herself.  I could be a tree.  Hmm…  What kind of tree would I be?  Cherry tree, with the pretty pink flowers?  People would come from miles to see me blossom each spring.  Nah.  I’d be an oak.  Strong.  I could be an oak.  I could be a tree.


You’re not so different from a tree.

Like trees, people have roots.  They arrive on this Earth in a certain spot, and roots are formed.  The longer you stay in a spot, the deeper your roots go.  At the same time, your branches spread upward and outward.  Branches are the roots of your sky.  Your roots want to touch the deepest bottom.  Your branches want to touch the deepest top.

Like trees, people have leaves.  Your leaves are your things;  Your loved ones and situations and happiness and woe and misery and joy.  Seasons change, you lose your leaves, your branches are bare.  Don’t worry, tree;  It’s just the cycle of things.  Your branches will be full with and empty of.  Leaves come and go.  Your branches are always there, tree.

Tree, take the dirty air the world gives you and hold it inside you.  Process it.  Work it over, run it through your branches, your leaves, your roots.  Hold it until it’s changed into something good and life-giving.  Do not put it back into the world until you’ve made it better than what you started with, tree.  Person.


26 03 2010

Sometime yesterday I tweeted (twit? twat?) this:

And it got me thinking about how lucky my brothers are to be identical twins. I mean, non-stop Halloween* costume ideas! Another Halloween, they dressed up as the Boondock Saints. How awesome is that?!?!

So I’m kind of jealous of my little brothers.  There are all these perks to being a twin, and why can’t I have perks?  Don’t I deserve perks?  Where are my perks?!

The Halloween benefit is really an offshoot of a more obvious benefit:  The Switcharoo**.  My brothers did this often in grade school and never even got in trouble for it, because oh ha ha, twins are adorable, they can do no wrong.  The Switcharoo happens when one twin pretends to be the other twin and totally screws with people all day long.  If I had a twin I could do that without just pretending to be someone else, which is what I currently do to fuck with people and gets me less laughing and more psychiatrists’ business cards.

Perk Number Two:  Twin ESP.  I have seen this in action, and it’s pretty fucking amazing.  Of course it makes sense (maybe only to me, but I digress) that two people with identical DNA would be super-tuned in to each other, but it doesn’t make it less cool when one twin gets a bad feeling and then we find out the other just got in a car wreck.  I want someone who can predict when I’m getting hurt or know to pick up some Taco Bell for me without me asking!

The third benefit I am bemoaning not getting to experience is the Double Your Fun factor.  It’s a given that having two of me everywhere would really make the world a better place, but what I’m really thinking of here is dressing alike.  I know, that’s kind of creepy, but don’t you think it would be fun sometimes?  I have this one outfit I just can’t get enough of, it’s so adorable.  So I make my twin wear it too and BAM!  Double the cute.

Anyway.  Maybe I’ll get a clone for Christmas.

*Aside:  Halloween of 2007, I was waaaay preggo with Maya.  I wanted to dress up as a nun and have Boyfriend dress up as Jesus, BUT NO, HE WAS NOT INTO IT.  And I have never forgiven him for it.  Pregnant nun!  Jesus!  It was sheer genius!

**Another Aside:  I have always wondered if my brothers, who seriously have to beat women away with a stick, have pulled The Switcharoo on any girls before.  If ya’ know what I’m sayin’.

what i did last night

7 03 2010

I don’t normally do this, but I have to share the dream I just woke up from…


I’m in Maryland, and suddenly decide my calling is being a rap star*. So I grab my toothbrush and my notebook of scathing rhymes and head for Phoenix.

Apparently Phoenix is the new place where rappers get rich or die trying.

Once I’m back in the 602, I start looking for music moguls to give my demos to. While I’m looking for one specific executive, I meet Mos Def and he’s actually a huge dickhead. I, of course, quickly turn him around with my charm* and our shared love of liberal political propaganda*.

Anyway, Mos Def and I start walking downtown to find his pal, the exec I want to meet. On our way we run into Kim Kardashian who also happens to be a thugged-out chick rapper* in this dreamario (that’s “dream + “scenario” for those who can’t keep up with my invented words). I think K-Kard is a lesbian because she seems very jealous of the blossoming friendship I have with Mos Def… and keeps tossing around sexual innuendo about my Irish Box* (her term, not mine, I have better names for it).

We, this motley crew!, head for a music festival that’s right on the edge of the desert wilderness in Fountain Hills. (Think golf course community meets redneck bar.) As we begin our search for Executive, we pass a row of kids half-buried in holes; Butts and legs wiggling in the air, heads submerged in dirt*. I make jokes about “reverse prairie dogs”* as we pass.

The path we’re walking leads us straight into the desert and we continue*, weaving through cacti and tumbleweed. A mile later, Mos Def is walking ahead as K-Kard and I reminisce about the old water parks* of Phoenix. Suddenly, Mos shouts about some titties. His yelling becomes more frantic and we jog up to him. He’s standing over a severed torso complete with decaying boobs*. Next to that is the fresher-looking corpse of a young blonde.

As we wait for authorities to arrive, we look around the area. The sun is setting and we see Native Americans, covered in red and yellow feathers, performing ceremonial dances on the mesas surrounding us*.

Finally, detective Matthew Perry arrives. He begins to run in circles around the crime scene*. No speaking, no assessing the bodies. Just running in silent circles.

Mos Def, K-Kard and I walk into the sunset holding hands*.

*Denotes a “WTF” moment.


That is probably the strangest dream I’ve had in years, which is saying something because two nights ago I dreamt of a groundhog on steroids attacking me.

I can only deduce that someone has been slipping things into my bedtime vodka.

What’s the strangest dream you’ve ever had?